


Morning After

by nonbinary



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Making Up, New Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:35:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29060652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonbinary/pseuds/nonbinary
Summary: With a first argument come first apologies.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 16
Kudos: 91





	Morning After

The morning after their first row, Greg rouses earlier than usual.

He's practically wrapped around Mycroft, chest to his back, arm thrown over his side. Cold, muted rays of light shine through a sliver of the curtains and across their legs, where they lie intertwined beneath the sheets.

The closeness of it almost hurts, a stark contrast to the way they fell asleep mere hours ago - facing away from each other, the few inches of space between their backs feeling closer to miles as they each settled down to sleep, simmering in their own frustrations. 

With jobs like theirs, such nights are bound to happen. 

It'd been neither of their faults, really. A bunch of little problems throughout the day will do that to you - a missing file, soaked shoes after a rainy crime scene, spilled coffee - a series of small nothings compounding to give you a headache and a surly mood until you get home, where you find an equally shirty spouse, and a small inconvenience becomes the catalyst for the end of times.

Now, the air is quiet - the tangible hostility from the previous night has long since evaporated.

He kisses Mycroft's shoulder through the soft pajama shirt. _Both stubborn in our own ways_ , he thinks, closing his eyes as he buries his face in the nape of Mycroft's neck where the cropped ginger hairs nuzzle his skin. The familiarity of the sensations - the little combing pinpricks, plus the rise and fall of Mycroft's back as he takes deep, silent breaths - is soothing, and brings an important truth into focus:

It doesn't matter, any of it. As long as Mycroft is still by his side, none of it matters one bit.

The vibrations of a small hum warm Greg's face and chest where it presses against his partner: Mycroft's waking. Less than a minute later, he's slowly rolled to lie on his back, gazing at Greg. He'd kidnapped Greg's arm at some point in his sleep, snugly secured it around himself, and he’s yet to let go of it, splaying Greg's thicker, slightly calloused hand over his chest and pressing it down with his own, intertwining their fingers in a gesture Greg's come to learn means protectiveness. He swallows, willing away the knot forming in his throat. _Not annoyed anymore._

"I'm sorry, darlin'," bursts out of his mouth in a quick, soft murmur.

Grey eyes roam his face, still tinged with sleep, then flutter closed- and Mycroft shifts forward, capturing Greg's lips. 

The moment trickles slow and warm like honey, lingering, sending a tingling buzz straight to Greg's heart. Delicate fingertips press on his jaw, over his stubble, guiding him, and they kiss again, and again, and again, each as eager and tender as the last. It makes Greg ache a little, tears springing, but he's happy. After parting, they remain close, foreheads pressed together. Mycroft's whisper bridges the tiny gap between them. 

"I'm sorry too, my dearest."

**Author's Note:**

> Don’t mind me, just archiving things.  
> Written after 6 months of writer’s block, in November (?) last year. Thought I’d put it here. My brain has been mush lately so let's hope it makes sense and I remember this tomorrow.  
> Remember to have water plus any meds you might need, as well as a nice day!


End file.
